How to Marry a Rogue (37 page)

“Oh, yes, my lady. Of course.” Her lips quivered into a smile. “He said you’d come by. That I was to accept any help you could give.”

“Help?” Her fingers tightened around her reticule string. “Oh, with the baby, you mean.” The gall of him! That she would assist in any way with his bas…

The crying baby she’d heard before began wailing again, the sound almost vibrating the thin walls. Maisie turned on her heel with a backward glance. “He’s in here, milady. Do you want to see him?”

“I’d rather not,” she said sharply, but the girl looked so crestfallen, she relented. Georgiana followed her into a cramped parlor that also doubled as a bedroom. She wrinkled her nose at the squalid conditions. “When are you moving?”

“Eh?” Maisie picked up a wrapped bundle from a woven basket. “This is my home, milady. I know it ain’t much, but it’s a roof over my head.” She indicated the baby with a nod. “This is him, milady. This is my Tibby.”

“Tibby?” Good lord, could Jack not suggest a more proper name? Even if the child would never follow its father into society, at least he could bestow a proper name on it. A wave of nausea swept through her like a whirlwind. She gripped a table edge. Maisie frowned.

“Are you all right, milady? Would you like to sit?”

Georgiana sank into a chair that creaked in protest. “Thank you,” she murmured, unable to keep up her stern visage any longer.

The girl leaned forward, the baby in her arms. “Would you like to hold him, milady?”

“Not really. No, thank you.” But she was too late. The bundle was thrust into her arms. Blinking back sudden tears and fighting the urge to give the child back, she stared at the round, pink face. “He’s rather beautiful, isn’t he?” she asked, startled at the realization. She wondered if her baby would resemble its little half-brother with the wide, blinking eyes and rosebud mouth.

“He is, milady.” Maisie knelt by Georgiana’s feet. “He’s the image of his father. The same eyes and hair,” she added proudly.

Biting her tongue, Georgiana could only nod. “I wonder why you are still in this household, miss. I thought…he…” It was impossible to use Jack’s name to this girl. “I thought he was moving you to better quarters.”

Frowning, Maisie lowered her gaze. “No, milady. He said I must stay here until he has the funds to set us up proper.”

Muttering under her breath, Georgiana stopped when Maisie’s gaze was upon her again. “Apparently, five thousand pounds doesn’t go very far these days.” It wasn’t Maisie’s fault. She seemed an ignorant country girl who could easily be seduced by a man half as charming and handsome as Jack. Could she really blame her? But her words were disturbing. Could Jack really be thinking of keeping house with such a creature? It would mean the ruin of him.

And of her.

“Have you no family?”
Besides my cheating dog of a husband, of course
.

The curls bounced on Maisie’s shoulders as she shook her head. “None, miss. They’re long dead. Tibby and his papa are all I have in this world.”

Georgiana’s throat constricted and she cleared it before speaking. “Something must be done for you and Tibby. I will ensure that it happens.”

The pale cheeks flushed pink. “Oh, thank you, milady, thank you! I never dreamed the Charitable Angels would help with more than some food and nappies.”

Georgiana stared at her. “The what? Angels, you say?” The girl nodded. “Do you not know who I am?”

“You are from the…the Charitable Angels. Edward said he’d sent…”

“Edward?” Georgiana almost cried out the name. “You mean Jack.”

“Jack?” Her rosy blush faded. “Who’s Jack?”

“The father of your child.”

Their raised voices awoke the sleeping infant. The lower lip, so plump and full, quivered. His paper-thin eyelids crinkled, and Tibby let loose with a lusty cry. Georgiana jiggled him slightly. Maisie reached for him and held him to her shoulder.

“You are mistaken, begging your pardon, milady. His father’s name is Edward.”

“Perhaps that’s what he calls himself to you,” she retorted. “I should know, for I am his wife.”

“His wife?” The girl’s face screwed up like her baby’s, and Georgiana hastily patted her arm. “He told me he would send one of the Charitable Angels ’round. Not any wife.”

“I am not an angel.” Georgiana stood briskly and fumbled with her reticule. “I can leave you some money. See that you buy some food and things for…for Tibby.”

“Oh, thank you, milady.” Maisie clutched her baby with one arm and wiped her tears with the sleeve of her other. “He’s a good baby, is Tibby.”

“I’m sure he is.” Blinking back tears, Georgiana headed for the door. “I wish you well. You and…and little Tibby.”

“Thank you, milady.” The girl’s voice was a whisper. She lifted the baby onto her shoulder, and pulled off his cap to stroke his hair. His curly black hair.

Georgiana frowned. “I thought he has his father’s hair.”

“He does.” Maisie giggled, her earlier tears forgotten. “All that thick, dark hair. Black as a cat’s.” She smoothed her hand over the little head. “Just like his father.”

Georgiana released the latch on the door. “No, miss.” She stepped back into the room, a sense of hope merging with relief that almost weakened her legs. “Jack’s hair is golden.”

The girl’s eyebrows lifted. “No, no. It’s black as this, milady.”

Inhaling slowly, Georgiana stood in front of her and tentatively patted Tibby’s firm little back. “My husband’s name is Jack Waverley.”

The girl frowned. “That wasn’t his name at all, milady. Tibby’s father, I mean.”

“What is his name?” She knew the answer before the girl uttered it.

“Edward. Edward Mitford’s ’is name.”

****

Roberts stopped at the Albany, but Jack wasn’t home. Impatient to find him and admit she’d misjudged him, Georgiana decided to wait. She paced the parlor, avoiding the crates and trunks of his belongings, which had not yet made their way to Kensington Gardens. The sight of his worldly possessions packed in a few boxes tore at her heart. Had it only been a few days ago when they’d spoken of their future together?

Taking a seat at the desk by the window, she stared down at the busy street, barely aware of the action below. All she could hear was Maisie’s voice, proclaiming Edward the father to her son. None of it made any sense. Why would Jack give money toward the wellbeing of a woman he so obviously did not know? More to the point, why was he funding Edward’s child?

She rubbed her temples and focused on the street, hoping without any real conviction to see Jack, carefree and smiling as usual. There was no sign of him. Sighing, Georgiana lay back against the chair and tapped her fingers atop a stack of letters. His grandfather’s signature on one caught her eye. She pulled it free and shot a glance at the door to ensure no one would catch her reading his mail.

In brief, harsh terms, his grandfather begged Jack to reconsider his stipend.
“Accept what is rightfully yours. A gentleman cannot survive on boxing and gaming.”

She replaced the letter, confusion outweighing her surprise. Why would Jack decline his allowance? If he refused her money when she’d offered, why would he then take it behind her back? Most vexing of all was the connection of Edward and Maisie, who were somehow involved.

“Mrs. Leister, ma’am.”

The butler’s voice made her jump. Before Georgiana could question the woman’s audacity to come to her husband’s home, the butler staggered against the doorframe as the actress pushed past him, expertly sweeping the train of her dark blue gown out of his way.

Georgiana’s hands clenched at her sides. She pushed up from the chair and leaned into the table edge for support.

“Mrs. Leister….”

The actress nodded curtly. “I’ve no time for pleasantries, missus.” She dismissed the butler with a sharp nod. “I would have sent a message, but there’s no time.”

“No time for what?”

Mrs. Leister reached into her beaded reticule and withdrew a folded paper. She handed it to Georgiana. “I found this.”

Georgiana scanned the note, trying to interpret the strange instructions and times contained upon it. “I don’t understand.” Her irritation at the woman’s presence dissolved. Jack’s former—whatever she used to be—was certainly not at the Albany for a tryst. It was almost as if she’d come to see Georgiana, not Jack.

“It’s Jack’s instructions to his second, Talbot Reynolds. He must have made another copy. This one was crumpled up.” When Georgiana still hadn’t registered the information, Mrs. Leister pursed her lips. “Jack is going to have swords with him.”

She didn’t have to ask with whom. She sank back into the chair. “Edward.” Shock and disbelief mingled as she struggled with the reality of what was about to happen.

“Yes.” Mrs. Leister paced the room, the heels of her shoes marking the worn carpet in front of the hearth. “Before you came the other day, Jack told me what he’d done.”

Georgiana shook her head, as if the motion could also clear her worries. “I don’t understand.”

“Edward blackmailed Jack. You suspected something about your missing money. Jack told me Edward came to him and made certain accusations he could not ignore.” Her carmine lips curled into a sneer. “I’m not surprised at how low he’d sunk. He was always the most unmitigated scoundrel.”

“I had no idea you knew him.”

Mrs. Leister laughed softly. “I knew them all, dearie, when they were students. Jack and Edward and…your brother…used to come to the theatre to see me. I was friends with them all.” She spoke this last in a dignified manner, as if she dared Georgiana to judge her.

Georgiana bit her lip. Whatever happened in the past was long over. Besides, there wasn’t time to be jealous or suspicious. Jack needed her.

“What do we do to stop him?”

Mrs. Leister’s sigh revealed she was helpless in the matter.

Georgiana stuffed the note into her reticule. “May we not go to the authorities? Surely, there must be something we can do.”

“I do not know where they will meet. Short of killing Edward ourselves, there’s not much we can do.”

Georgiana hesitated. She had never hurt a living thing in her life. Couldn’t bear the sight of little Tibby, Edward’s bastard child, living in dismal surroundings. So why did the idea of killing Edward not disturb her in the least?

“Where is Jack now?”

“I don’t know. Preparing for their duel, I expect.”

“Then I shall find Edward.”

Mrs. Leister’s brows drew together. “He cannot be reasoned with, Mrs. Waverley.”

Georgiana laughed sharply. “I do not intend to reason with him.”

“It won’t matter if you find him. His enmity with Jack began years ago. He’s already made his decision, and once Edward Mitford makes up his mind, there’s no stopping him.” She shook her head. “You don’t know him like I do, dearie.”

Georgiana rang for her carriage. “And you do not know me.”

Chapter Forty

The carriage circled St. James’s park twice, but Georgiana was unable to locate Edward. Roberts inquired at Edward’s usual haunts, generously provided by Mrs. Leister, but they had turned up nothing. The opinion at Edward’s club was that he took a daily constitutional in the park with his newest conquest: a rather plain widow in possession of a large fortune, but it seemed as if the park would also yield nothing.

The day was unusually sunny, the clouds scattered enough to allow children to run through the grounds, their shrieks filling the air, but Georgiana hardly noticed. Within the course of a week, her life had gone from filled with the promise of a future with Jack and their unborn child to a nightmare threatening their happiness. She hoped to end the nightmare by addressing its personification.

One good thing had come of Edward’s deception. She’d sent her housekeeper to fetch Maisie and Tibby and bring them safely to Kensington Gardens. Heaven only knew what she’d do with them, but her conscience would not allow her to leave Maisie to the squalid life to which Edward confined her.

She was about to give up her search and tell Roberts to take her home when a small crowd parted across the green. Edward’s tall, unmistakable form was visible among them.

Roberts stopped the coach and a footman handed her out. Straightening the short edges of her spencer, Georgiana ambled across the path toward him, pretending she was just another lady of quality enjoying the park. Edward didn’t notice her. He leaned down to speak to his companion, a richly dressed older woman who clutched his arm and giggled at every word he spoke.

She wished she could take the woman aside and tell her exactly with whom she was involved, but it wouldn’t make a difference. Edward could be quite charming when he wished. She of all people knew that.

He dressed more elegantly now than when she’d known him, what felt like a lifetime ago. If Jonathan hadn’t come after her—if there hadn’t been a delay at the crossroads when another carriage had broken a wheel and they’d stopped to help—it could be her, instead of poor Maisie Smith, caring for his child. She stifled a shudder and forced herself to place one foot before the other. Each step brought her closer and closer to the thing she dreaded, and her courage began to fail.

His companion noticed her and said something to Edward, who glanced at her twice before stopping in his tracks. Dark violet bruises beneath his eyes and a crooked set of his nose marred his usual beauty. He bowed extravagantly when she stood before him.

“My dear Mrs. Waverley.”

She curtsied, every bone in her body rebelling at showing him any civility.

“I’d like a word with you, Mr. Mitford, if you please.” She gazed directly into his eyes. His mocking smile threatened to disarm her.

“I am your humble servant.” He glanced at his companion. “Will you excuse me, Blanche? I must see to this charming lady’s demands.”

The woman curtsied uncertainly at Georgiana, who nodded back. When she’d gone on a few paces, Georgiana turned to Edward, whose icy gaze hadn’t wavered.

“To what do I owe the honor, Georgiana? Or have you already tired of that rogue Waverley? I’d be happy to service you in any way you desire.”

She drew in a slow breath so he wouldn’t notice her agitation. “You will stop blackmailing my family immediately.”